I Would Have Died (I Would Have Loved You)
by ParadiseAvenger
Summary: MOVED! A girl, locked in a tower... A boy, invisible to the world... It was love. And then it wasn't... Temperature Play and Eventual Lemon. Jackunzel. (5 Chapters.) MOVED!
1. Remember the Day

There are hardly any good Jackunzel stories out there… so, I decided to write one. And it will eventually have mature content.

I got the title idea from the beautiful song "Losing Your Memory" by Ryan Star. If you listen to it, you should probably grab a tissue.

…

Anyway, I have **MOVED** this story **COMPLETELY** to another site. You can find this **STORY** and all its subsequent **UPDATES **here, just remove the spaces and asterisks (*): h*t*t*p :/ archiveofourown. o*r*g /works/1149921

I have the same penname there as I do here: ParadiseAvenger

X X X

Time passed quickly for immortals. Months turned to years in the blink of an eye. And for the lonely spirit of Jack Frost, this was both a blessing and a curse. After all, time healed all wounds, didn't it? But right now, the swift passage of time was more a curse since Jack often remembered things as they had been. The last time he had been in the forests outside the city of Corona, the wooded area was just that—wooded. Completely and thoroughly wooded with trees and it was really Jack's own fault what happened (not that he would ever admit it).

It was dark and he was looking at the ground, focusing on freezing it so the snow he brought the next day would stick. He didn't often look where he was going anymore, having been with the North Wind for years and trusting it with his very life. Needless to say, it was quite the shock for young Jack Frost when he was happily soaring through the night sky one minute and colliding harshly with the stony bricks of a tower the next. Startled, he lost his grip on his staff and the wind both and plummeted to the ground below.

To add insult to injury after his harsh crash-landing, his staff smacked down on top of his head. Grumbling, he swept himself to his feet and glared at the tower as if someone had put it there just to humiliate the winter spirit in this one careless moment. But that seemed like an awful lot of effort, especially since no one knew Jack Frost even existed. With a heavy sigh, Jack rubbed his offending injuries—namely his head and his behind—and took to the sky once again.

That was when he saw it—saw her. It was just a little movement that he wouldn't have seen if he hadn't been looking (_very carefully)_ where he was going. The shuttered balcony window of the tower swung open and there was a glimmer of golden hair in the moonlight. Jack halted, hovering in a place where the child could have seen him if she looked but not so obviously placed as to make it painfully clear he had discovered yet another person who could not see him.

The little girl leaned her chin on the edge of the window and stared out at the night sky for a long moment. Her green eyes glowed hopefully in the starlight, the color of spring grass that Jack could never touch. Then, she called softly, "Is anyone out there?"

Jack's heart began to pound eagerly and he almost flew closer to her—almost.

But then the child closed her eyes and sighed sadly. She closed the shutters and disappeared back into her tower silently.

And that should have been the end of it. Thoroughly embarrassed, Jack Frost should have buried the tower up to its windows in snow and left well-enough alone. He should have slunk off to Antarctica to nurture his pride. (Winter was supposed to be over in this area anyway.) He should have… but he didn't. And it would be a very long time before anyone accused Jack Frost of being too smart—if anyone ever did. Instead of doing any of these things, Jack showered the woods in his most beautiful snow and waited on the tower's roof until the next morning.

He listened to the voices inside, smiling when he heard the little girl ask sweetly to go outside to play and sneering when he heard the mother meanly refuse with lies about it being unsafe. How could a child never be allowed outside to play in the snow?

So Jack let the black-haired woman know exactly how he felt about her words and lies. Mother Gothel would wonder where that snowball came from for years to come, but it was worth it to hear the little girl laugh even if it reinforced the fact that no one could see him.

…

As the years passed, slowing to a more human pace for lonely Jack, he returned to the tower eagerly whenever he could. In the winter, he was certain to bring his most beautiful snow even if the girl couldn't play in it and in the summer, he did his best to keep his chilly presence under wraps.

He watched her grow from a little child to a youth roughly his own age (1). He sat on the windowsill and watched her. He listened to her sing, listened to her talk to herself and the murals she had drawn on the walls of her tower, and listened to her tearful pleas for a friend. He began to think that she might be lonelier than he was. After all, she was trapped within the walls of this tower. At least he had the entire world at his fingertips, even if not a soul could see him.

Then, he listened to her cry herself to sleep and he decided then that he would make her see him—no matter the cost.

Jack started small, uncertain of exactly how to go about getting believers. (He knew other spirits left gifts and tokens. The Easter Bunny left his silly painted eggs, Santa Claus left fabulous presents, and even the Tooth Fairy left coins. But Jack had never wanted to _bribe_ children into believing in him. Right now though, he was desperate enough to try anything—not just for his sake, but for the lonely girl's also.)

It was the middle of summer yet he crafted roses and figurines out of ice and left them on the girl's windowsill. She was awed by them for hours before they finally began to melt. After a few days of that, she showed the sculptures to her mother and asked how such a thing was possible. Jack's heart pounded, but the girl's mother didn't even mention his name. In fact, she barely answered the young girl's question at all, expertly changing the subject.

Unperturbed, Jack made larger sculptures. They were practically life-sized and lasted even longer, but these only succeeded in getting the girl into trouble for the puddles of water left behind by his creations. So Jack returned to his small statuettes. This time, he left one in an image of himself and was pleased to find that the girl asked her mother who the person was. But the woman didn't answer at all and once again evaded easily. Jack threw a snowball at the back of her head, earning himself a laugh from the girl before they were both shamed by the woman's glare.

Jack soon realized that the girl spent much of her time reading. She read the same three books over and over even though they must not have been very interesting with subjects like botany, geology, and cooking (2). But he then noticed that the girl was slowly working her way through each and every recipe in the cook book and she stared so longingly out the window at the forest below.

So, he wandered the forest until he found the most beautiful flowering plant he could. He dug it up and brought it to her tower, laying his blooming present on the window where he had left his icy gifts. She gasped, looking around for whoever had left the gift, but she still didn't see him. She spoke to the air, pleading for her mysterious patron to come out, and Jack resisted the urge to tell her that he was right in front of her.

That night, the mean woman scolded the girl, obviously thinking she had left the forbidden tower to fetch the plant from the dangerous world outside the walls. Even Jack had to admit that the story the girl told—about someone just leaving the lovely plant on her window with a figure of un-melting ice—sounded far-fetched. But he couldn't let her be bullied for something he had done and so… another snowball to the rescue because that was all Jack had in his arsenal.

Jack let a few days pass until the black-haired woman calmed. Then, he left the girl a new ice sculpture of a beautiful castle he had seen on the edge of the sea. Beside it, he left a statuette of her with her long draping hair and another of himself with his staff. He didn't know what he was going for, but he knew in his heart that she would see him someday.

The girl sat in the windowsill while she brushed her hair and she occasionally looked like she wanted to speak to the empty air around her, but thought better of it each time. Finally though, her desire overrode her common sense and she asked timidly, "Are you out there?"

Jack slid down from the roof of the tower to perch beside her on the windowsill. He let his coolness soak into her skin and she shivered faintly, smiling.

"You left me the ice sculptures and the plant, didn't you? Thank you, if you did," she said to the wrong direction.

Jack crafted a rose from ice and set it beside her.

She gasped and looked around before sighing sadly. "Why can't I see you? I really want to see you. I need to see you…" A tear slid down her cheek, sparkling in the sunlight. "Please," she whispered. "Please…"

In that moment, Jack wanted to reach out and touch her, to brush the tears from her cheeks, more than he had ever wanted anything. He breathed out softly, letting his powers freeze the tear so that it fell into her lap like a crystal.

The girl laughed wetly, knowing that someone or something strange was with her even if she could not see Jack. "Why can't I see you?" she whispered. "I really want to… please, just let me see you… It doesn't matter if you look strange or anything, not to me…"

Again, Jack crafted an icy statuette of himself and placed it beside her with the rose he had made a few moments earlier. The girl gathered both into her hands and clutched them even though they must have been cold.

"Please," she whispered and squeezed her eyes shut. "Please… I know you're there. You have to be there."

A strange feeling welled in Jack's heart—a surge of warmth or light or something. He had never felt it before and for a moment, he couldn't breathe. Would she see him? Was this the moment they had both been so desperately wishing for?

"Rapunzel?" the black-haired woman's mean voice rang through the tower from inside. "What are you doing on that windowsill? Get down and come inside right now!"

The feeling snapped, breaking into a thousand pieces, and Jack could have screamed in frustration. His creations in the girl's tight grip abruptly melted, slipping away between her fingers. She made a soft desperate sound, more tears flowing down her cheeks, but then sucked in a breath. She wiped her cheeks dry with her sleeve and then pulled herself back into the tower, back into the arms of that woman.

Frustrated and aching, Jack swept the North Wind into a raging storm around the tower, throwing his powers into it until it was snowing in the middle of July. He knew it was stupid of him and that he should have been used to not being seen, but he felt that he had been so close to her seeing him and the frustration was overpowering.

When he calmed later, he would realize that he had made a small step forward. The girl knew he was out there and he now knew her name—Rapunzel—and it would give him a better idea on how to get her to believe in him.

…

Being almost one hundred years old had taught Jack Frost some semblance of patience. He waited a few days, watching for when the mean black-haired woman would leave to fetch groceries or do whatever she did when she eventually left the girl alone in the tower. (He didn't care enough to follow her.) Finally, she did indeed leave and Rapunzel watched her mother depart from the tower's wide windowsill with one hand raised in silent farewell. She stood there for a long time, waiting, and Jack didn't want to keep her waiting long.

He flew down, landing on the sill and seeping out his signature cold so she would know he was there.

She shivered, but immediately smiled. "I know you're there," she whispered as if her mother was still watching. "How are you?"

Jack moved to the window and touched the glass, swirls of beautiful frost fanning from his fingertips.

Rapunzel gasped, smiling wider. "That's beautiful. I wish I could do something like that."

Jack grinned to himself and began to write in the frost. Slowly, mindful of his poor handwriting and limited ability to spell, he wrote her name.

Her lovely green eyes widened, reaching out to touch the letters as if to assure herself they were real even if the thin frost melted beneath her fingers. "Who are you?" she whispered. "If you know my name, will you tell me yours?"

The winter child beamed. This was going exactly as he had hoped. Deliberately, he scrawled his own name in the thin ice.

"Jack Frost," Rapunzel read aloud. "Jack Frost," she repeated slowly, tasting the name on her lips.

Jack felt that strange feeling welling up in his chest again like a flower slowly opening in sunlight. His heart soared, lighter and warmer than any spring breeze as Rapunzel repeated his name over and over again as if it was a mantra that would allow her to see him. But, though the feeling remained blooming there in his chest, she still didn't see him.

"No," he breathed out.

Rapunzel turned quickly towards the sound of his voice, her lips curved in a bright smile. "Jack," she murmured.

He looked up into her face, but felt her eyes go through him. "You can't see me, can you?" he whispered and couldn't bear to say the words that were slowly eating through him. Maybe no one ever would see him. Maybe he was meant to be invisible and lonely forever.

But then, Rapunzel answered him. "I can't, but I can hear you."

For a moment, Jack's mouth hung helplessly open. "Y-You can hear me?"

She nodded and then stretched out her hands in his direction.

Jack winced as her fingers combed through the empty air in front of him, but he took a step forward to see if she could touch him. When her hands passed through him, he sighed sadly, but wasn't surprised. "Guess not," he murmured.

"What?" she asked.

"You can't touch me either," he told her.

Her eyes widened, her fingers stretching out eagerly. "Are you close? Why can't I touch you?"

"Maybe because I'm… just a spirit. Maybe no one can touch me… or see me…" Jack tried to just be happy that she could hear him at least, but even so this realization that she could not see or touch him was depressing none the less.

"A spirit?" Rapunzel repeated.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm the spirit of winter… of ice and cold."

"That's amazing," she breathed. "A spirit."

Then, warmth abruptly flooded his entire being. Jack looked up sharply and his eyes went right into Rapunzel's. She gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, and then she smiled so beautifully. For a moment, he just stared at her, uncertain. She reached out, but halted nervously. Jack didn't know what made him reach out his own trembling fingers for her outstretched hand but he was glad he did because for the first time in the small lonely eternity that his life was, he touched another person's warm skin.

A tear slipped down Rapunzel's cheek and she sobbed happily. Then, she threw herself at Jack, her arms wrapping around her first real friend. He was cool to the touch, but she welcomed the chill in the heat of summer. He smelled like winter, crisp and fresh and hinted with mint and wood smoke. The animal skin he wore over his shoulders was rough and strange, but nothing would make Rapunzel release him—not even the return of Mother Gothel.

Jack held her just as tightly, soaking up the touch he had desperately desired for a hundred years. Her body was warm, so warm, so alive, and he felt her heart beating quickly within the cage of her ribs. She wore a soft cotton dress and her long hair was like silk beneath his hands. He felt the press of her budding breasts and the puff of her warm breath on the side of his neck. She smelled like cookies and sunlight and spring flowers. God, she was so beautiful.

It was a small eternity before either of them was able to let go of the other, even to speak. And so, two lonely souls became friends.

X X X

Please read this story and all its **updates** in its intended content on the new site, **Archive of Our Own.**

…

(1) Jack's real age is actually most likely closer to twelve or thirteen, not eighteen like the internet claims. We can decide this from context. In his flashback, he appears to be from the colonial period. Back then, he would have to be twelve or thirteen to be out ice skating with his sister rather than working.

(2) The three books Rapunzel has in her tower actually are about these three subjects. Boring, huh?

Questions, comments, concerns?

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	2. Complete!

This story is now complete on Archive of Our Own.

There is a **link** in the **first chapter**.

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Thank you!


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